


HBD Loser

by forensicleaf



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Because it's me, Fluff, Gen, I swear this is just cute happy nonsense, Iron Dad, Peter Parker has a great day, Spidey son, because he deserves it, birthday fic, tiniest bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-02-06
Packaged: 2019-10-23 13:12:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17684126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forensicleaf/pseuds/forensicleaf
Summary: “Up and at ‘em, champ! Otherwise you’re not gonna have time to open your presents before school.” May wiggles her eyebrows.Presents?Peter feels a smile creep across his face, and May’s own widens in response. He’d almost forgotten.“Happy birthday, honey,” May says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Then she ruffles his hair, laughing as Peter rolls his eyes and pushes her away. “Now come on. I made breakfast.”





	HBD Loser

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'm working on my W.I.P, but it's my birthday tomorrow so I wanted to write this completely self-indulgent fic. Yes, I know Peter's birthday is most-likely somewhere in the summer, but I had to go to school on my birthday every year so he can deal with it for this one story.

 

 

“Wakey wakey.”

The voice is light, amused, and it’s far, _far_ too early for it.

Peter groans, rolling onto his side and pulling the duvet up and over his head. “No,” he grumbles into the pillow. He was out late last night – really late - and his body is in no way ready to get up.

But May apparently doesn’t appreciate that friendly neighbourhood Spider-men need their sleep.

“Oh no you don’t, mister,” she says. The duvet is yanked off of him, and Peter jolts up with a cry, grabbing for the edges of the disappearing fabric.

“ _May_!”

His aunt laughs, dumping the covers back onto him in a heap. Peter untangles his head from the sheets, glaring half-heartedly, but it’s hard to maintain when he sees May’s excited face.

“Up and at ‘em, champ! Otherwise you’re not gonna have time to open your presents before school.” She wiggles her eyebrows.

_Presents?_

Peter feels a smile creep across his face, and May’s own widens in response. He’d almost forgotten.

“Happy birthday, honey,” May says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. Then she ruffles his hair, laughing as Peter rolls his eyes and pushes her away. “Now come on. I made breakfast.”

She heads to the kitchen and Peter scrambles to his feet to follow her. He snags a pair of sweatpants off the floor, almost tripping in his attempt to walk and pull them on at the same time. When he stumbles out into the living area, his jaw nearly hits the floor.

“Whoa.”

There are _so many presents_.

By most people’s standards it wouldn’t be anything impressive, but the pile on the kitchen table is bigger than he can remember seeing in years.

“May,” he starts, guilt creeping in. They aren’t exactly destitute, but money is something he knows his aunt worries about – especially since she’s been managing the house by herself. He’d asked for a new backpack - that’s it. It’s clearly not all he’s got. “This is-“

“Your birthday,” May says firmly, a little crease appearing between her brows. Her tone leaves no room for argument. “You’re only sixteen once, Peter.” Then she smiles, placing her hands on his shoulders, steering him towards the table. “Sit,” she says, pushing him down into a chair. A plate slides across the table. “Eat.”

Peter obliges. He shovels the pancakes into his mouth, forgetting all about being woken early as the first bit of sugary syrupy goodness touches his soul. May folds herself into the seat across from him, resting her chin in her hand. Her eyebrow quirks up as he takes another huge forkful, and Peter quickly tries to swallow the ridiculous amount of food he has in his mouth.

“So good,” he manages to get out, and May’s nose crinkles up as she smiles at him fondly, pinching a piece of stray pancake from the edge of his plate. It’s true. Pancakes are one of the few things May makes amazingly well.

“Okay,” she says when Peter pushes his empty plate to the side in record time. She picks a small box off of the top of the present pile and places it down in front of him excitedly. “This one first.”

 

**~**

 

The table is covered in a mountain of colourful, torn paper by the time Peter is finished, and he has so many cool things, he doesn’t know what to do with them all.

He has a new pair of headphones to replace the old ones he couldn’t go anywhere without but were totally falling apart, a Lego Millennium Falcon set which he can’t wait to invite Ned over to get started on, a couple of dorky science-pun tees that he hasn’t seen before and _loves_ completely un-ironically, a new backpack – _do not lose this one, Peter, I mean it –_ and last but not least, a small silver keychain with a spider emblazoned in the centre of the metal, identical to the one on his suit.

He rubs his thumb over the etching, glancing up at May with a question in his eyes. It had taken her a while to come round to the Spider-man thing, and he knows that even now she’s working at being entirely comfortable with it, but this gift seems like an olive branch of sorts.

Meeting his gaze, May shugs, nonchalant. “All the merch I could find was tacky, so I found a place that does laser engraving. Do you like it?”

“I love it!” he says, face smushed into May’s neck as he jumps up to give her a tight hug. “Thank you. Thank you for everything.”

May laughs softly. “Happy birthday,” she says, squeezing him back. “I love you.”

“Love you too.”

She pulls away and Peter blinks. Her eyes are misty. “God, I can’t believe you’re sixteen already,” she says. She’s smiling, but her voice is wobbly. “I just-“ She sniffles a little, hand coming up to cup Peter’s cheek. “I’m just so proud of you, honey.”

“May…” Peter feels his cheeks heating up. He squirms, uncomfortable, but he doesn’t look away.

“Right. Right,” May says, shaking her head. She rolls her eyes dramatically. “Ugh, sorry. Feelings.” And that makes Peter laugh.

“You do know that, though, right?” she asks, suddenly serious again. “That I’m proud of you?”

Peter ducks his head. “Yeah. Of course.”

May nods. “Good.” She smiles, then her eyes widen as they drift above his head to the clock on the wall. “Shit. Come on, you’re going to be late. I’ll drop you.”

 

**~**

 

Peter checks his phone on the ride in to school.

He has a snapchat from Ned – a video of him tunelessly singing _happy birthday_ with a silly filter that makes his voice about three octaves higher (and makes May cringe away in the driver’s seat). Peter loves it.

MJ has sent him one too. It’s a picture of her with her hand in the foreground, middle finger raised, captioned _HBD loser._ But she’s smiling, so he guesses she’s being sincere. Honestly, he’s still trying to figure her out.

Surprisingly, he also has a text from Happy. Short and to the point, all it says is _Happy birthday, kid_ but Peter feels a little surge of warmth in his chest to know that he remembered and went to the trouble. He types out a quick thank you, sure to include lots of emojis purely for the fact he knows it will annoy Happy, and sends it off.

He has a message from Ms Potts, too, which is nice. They don’t know each other that well – she’s away on business a lot and is rarely around when Peter visits the compound – but every time they’ve met she’s been nothing but friendly and warm to him. He sends her a thank you as well, and then opens Tony’s message.

Well, messages.

 

 **T.S:** Heard it was your birthday. How old are you now, 100?

 **T.S:** Just kidding. Happy Sweet Sixteen, squirt. Have a great day. Try and be a normal kid for once.

 **T.S:** That means no suiting up, by the way. Karen will just sing Happy Birthday on a loop v. loudly and v. badly if you do.

 **T.S:** P.S, you still on for this weekend?

 

Peter grins and types out a reply.

 

 **P.P:** Thanks! And yeah, May said it’s fine so long as I take any homework I get. How’s California?

 

His phone pings almost instantly.

 

 **T.S:** Sun, sea, sand. Meetings are boring, but Pepper makes it bearable. I’ll have Happy pick you up Friday if he’s not still trying to decipher those hieroglyphics you sent him.

 **P.P:** They’re emojis, Mr Stark :/

 **T.S:** I know that, kid. He doesn’t. ✌

 

Peter huffs out a laugh. May glances across at him as he does, face scrunching into an amused frown. “What? Is that Ned?”

“Uh… Mr. Stark.”

“Oh?” It’s said lightly, but there’s an undercurrent Peter doesn’t miss.

For however long it took May to come round to the idea of Peter swinging round the streets of New York in red and blue spandex, it had taken her a hell of a lot longer to come round to the idea of Tony Stark. Peter appreciates that she’s trying, though. The two of them seem to have settled into a tentative friendship for now, based on the understanding that they both want what’s best for him, even if he’s sure May still has her reservations.

Peter steals a nervous glance at his aunt. “Yeah. Just - saying happy birthday. And, y’know, no Spider-manning today.”

“Good,” May says, only sounding slightly surprised. “You deserve a day off.”

Peter hums, non-committedly, eyes drifting to the cars passing by. He yelps in surprise as May gives him a little jab him in the ribs, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make Peter squirm away.

“Nuh-uh. Stop that,” she says, taking her eyes off the road for a second, giving him a stern look. “New York will be fine without its Spider-boy for one night.”

“Spider- _man,_ ” Peter grumbles, but her words have the desired effect of drawing him out of the funk he was beginning to spiral into. He’s been working on this. It’s okay to take a day for himself every now and again. He has to stop holding himself responsible for everything that happens when he’s not there. It’ll be fine.

They pull in to the school parking lot, and May slows the car to a stop, putting the car in park and turning to face him.

“All right, _Spider-man_ ,” she says, rolling her eyes when Peter smiles widely at that. She points at the school. “Now, you are going to go in there and have a great day, and then you’re going to come home and we’re going to order take-out – your choice – and watch movies and be totally and completely ordinary. I’ve tried to swing an early finish today so I should be home just after you, but I’ll text you if anything changes, okay?”

Peter nods. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Okay. Come here, you.”

He leans in a little so she can press a kiss to his temple, but ducks out of the way before she can muss up his hair, climbing quickly out of the car.

May looks a little disappointed, but she laughs. “See you later!”

 

**~**

 

He meets Ned on the front steps of the school, and his best friend gives him a huge bear hug, jovially wishing him a happy birthday. They make their way in, discussing the gifts Peter got that morning and _what should I make of the Snapchat MJ sent? Not that it has to mean anything at all, of course._

When they reach their lockers, Ned pulls a neatly-wrapped present out of his backpack with a flourish.

“Ned,” Peter groans, taking the gift reluctantly. The paper crinkles in his hands. It feels like it’s wrapped around something soft.

“I know, I know - you said you didn’t want anything. It’s nothing special, I swear.”

The ‘nothing special’ is actually a beanie, bright red with a silver spider-web pattern that spirals out from the crown.

It’s… so ugly.

Peter laughs as he holds it between his hands. “Ned, you know I’m never going to wear this.”

Ned’s face splits into a grin. “Yeah, I know, but it’s so bad I just had to get it,” he says. “Hey, maybe your _friend_ can wear it, though – in the winter. It gets cold in New York.”

“I don’t know. I feel like the general idea is to intimidate the bad guys, not...well -” he holds up the beanie, letting the hideousness of it speak for itself.

“Hey, I wouldn’t mess with a man brave enough to wear that hat.”

Peter barks out a laugh at that, clapping a hand over his mouth as the sound draws stares from other students making their way through the hallway to class. He stuffs the hat in his backpack, still smiling. “Thanks, Ned.” He means it.

“No problem. Oh, hey, what did you get from…” Ned glances around before dramatically whispering “ _Mr Stark_? Oh man, I bet it was something really cool. Did he make you some kind of new feature for the suit? Ooh, no I got it – new Starkphone. Have you _seen_ those?”

Peter focuses on his locker combination, feeling his cheeks getting hot. “Ned, cool it. I, uh, told him not to get me anything either.”

Ned pulls a face. “You told a _billionaire_ not to get you anything for your birthday? Peter, it’s _Tony Stark_.” Again with the stage whispering. “He could like, buy you an island or something with the change under his couch cushions.”

Peter bristles a little at that. “I don’t – I don’t care about that,” he says. Maybe at one point, that was a factor in the admiration he felt for Mr Stark, but that’s long passed now, replaced by something else, something better. He doesn’t embarrass himself by telling Ned that hanging out with Tony and spending time in the labs working on tech together is better than anything the man could buy him, even if it is the truth. “Mr Stark has done so much for me already,” he says instead. “Like, the suit… and, y’know, all the training sessions. I wouldn’t – I don’t want anything else.”

Ned’s mouth twists. “Okay,” he says. He looks dubious, but he doesn’t press it any further.

They stand in uncharacteristic silence as Peter slides his backpack into his locker, feeling defensive for some reason he can’t quite put his finger on. Until Ned breaks the quiet by saying “So… when are we building the Falcon?” and Peter smiles.

 

**~**

 

The rest of the school day passes as most school days do for Peter; sneaking in a few new web fluid trials in Chem, limping his way through Spanish, listening to Flash not-so-subtly get his digs in about Peter’s ‘fake’ internship – but whatever, it’s his birthday, who cares?

Not many people seem to be aware of that though, so Peter manages to stay under the radar, getting only a few _happy birthdays_ from those classmates he actually talks to on a regular basis. He’s perfectly happy not to have any extra attention drawn to him today, and is thankful that for once, his day goes exactly how he wants it to.

Until decathlon prep, that is.

He’s scrolling through his phone, half-listening to Ned and Cindy debate the finer points of which Star Trek series is the best (it’s The Next Generation, obviously, but whatever, he’s already said his piece), and half-reading a new article about Spider-man that the Bugle Online has put up.

Distracted as he is, he doesn’t realise there’s anyone behind him until deft fingers are securing a party hat onto his head.

“Wha-“ He spins in his chair in time to see MJ take a step back from him.

She just shrugs, but Peter knows her a lot better now, and he doesn’t miss the hint of amusement in her voice when she says “Captain’s orders.”

He tears the hat off his head, face flushing as Ned laughs beside him. He glances around the rest of their group, hoping no one noticed even though he knows it’s impossible that they didn’t. His stomach drops when he sees Flash is staring at him, a shit-eating grin crawling across his face.

“Wait, Parker, it’s your _birthday_?” he says with far too much glee.

_Oh no._

Flash pushes his chair back, jumping to his feet with a cry.

“Birthday bumps!”

 

**~**

 

May actually does manage to get an early finish, which is a pleasant surprise – she’s so busy at work usually that it almost never happens. She messages him when he’s on his way home to let him know that she’ll be there shortly, and that she fully expects him to be both in the apartment, and armed with the movies they’ll be watching that evening when she gets back.

Peter uses the time he’s waiting on her to pick out the movies, as asked, then when he’s done that he can’t resist pulling his mask on. He’s not planning on going anywhere – he just wants to see…

“Good afternoon Peter.” Karen’s voice fills his ears, pleasant as ever.

“Hey, Karen. S’up?”

“I have been informed that it is in fact your birthday today, Peter,” she says almost sounding sad. “I didn’t get you a present.”

“Oh. Well that’s okay.”

“I do have a song to sing for you, though,” she says. And her voice is much brighter now. “I’ve been told it’s customary.”

Peter laughs nervously. “No, no Karen you don’t have to- oh. Oh, okay, you are. You, uh… you have a lovely singing voice.”

Karen interrupts her rendition of Happy Birthday - which is actually just as horrible as promised - to say a quick “Thank you, Peter” before resuming.

He half-expects a text from Tony asking what the hell he’s doing putting the suit on, sure that it’s something the man would be keeping an eye on today, but surprisingly, when he pulls the mask off, it’s radio silence. He holds his phone in his hands for a moment, then fires off a quick message.

 

 **PP:** Karen isn’t gonna win X-Factor any time soon.

 

Then, just in case Mr Stark thinks he’s completely ignored him and is out swinging around New York, he adds:

 

 **PP:** Not SMing!! Just wanted to see if you were serious about the singing.

 

His phone buzzes, and he looks down quickly, feeling awful for the little flicker of disappointment he feels when he sees that it’s May, telling him to get the popcorn ready.

He covers the couch in the big blankets specially reserved for these occasions, microwaves enough popcorn to feed a small army, and settles in to wait.

Tony never does text him back.

 

**~**

 

They make it through Jurassic Park and most of the way through Wreck-It Ralph before popcorn officially becomes an insufficient form of sustenance.

Peter settles on Thai. It’s not his favourite, or even what he particularly feels like eating tonight, but May loves it, and the restaurant round the corner is super cool about delivering, even though it’s literally on the doorstop. If he’s honest, that’s the real reason he picks it.

They’re about twenty minutes into their next movie when the doorbell rings.

May sticks her head over the couch to call to the kitchen, where Peter’s already up getting a drink. “That’ll be the food. Honey, can you…”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, already on it.

Peter snags the cash off the counter and makes his way to the door. He swings it open, double-checking the amount in his hand, looks up, and pulls up short.

“Someone order Thai?” Tony Stark says, holding a take-out bag aloft.

Peter stares for a second in surprise. He can’t help the dumb smile that spreads across his face. “I – what are you doing here?” Tony’s supposed to be in California until Thursday evening.

“It’s your birthday, isn’t it?” Mr Stark says, shooting Peter a look over the top of his glasses.

“Well, yeah but -”

“So we’re celebrating. C’mon.”

Mr Stark claps a hand on Peter’s shoulder as he slides past him into the apartment, and Peter watches him go, dazed. Tony came back from California early to spend time with him on his birthday? He can’t believe it.

He suddenly thinks of May, and the evening they had planned, feeling a twinge of guilt. He closes the door hurriedly, rushing after Tony. “Wait, Mr Stark -”

Too late. May walks out of her room, busy fastening the ends of her hair into a plait. She stops, seeing Tony in the kitchen, and Peter finds himself stuck in the space between them, feeling incredibly awkward.

“Um…” he starts, not even sure where he’s going with it, but to his complete surprise, May’s face softens into a warm smile.

“Mr Stark,” she says cordially.

“Mrs Parker. Looking lovely as ever.”

May rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “Flattery will get you nowhere, you know.”

“No? Can it at least get me some…” Tony eyes the container he’s holding, trying to decipher the ink scrawled on the lid. “Pad Thai?” he finishes, and May laughs.

Peter glances between the two of them, feeling a bit like he’s stumbled into the Twilight Zone. “Wait,” he says, turning to May, “did you know he was coming?”

Her eyes twinkle with mischief. “Surprise!”

He shakes his head, bemused. “I can’t believe this.”

“Like I’m not going to come say hi on your birthday,” Tony says, affronted.

Peter laughs. “No, I mean – you guys are sneaky. I had no idea.”

“That’s the point of a surprise, dummy,” May says, ruffling his hair on her way to join Tony in the kitchen. She swats Tony’s hands away from the take-out containers, insisting he sit down and let her serve because he’s a guest. Peter gets a similar treatment when he offers to help – _birthday boys don’t plate up –_ so he joins Tony on the couch _._

“Back to the Future. Nice choice,” Tony says, gesturing to the frozen image of Marty McFly on the screen. He pushes the chunky knit blanket to the side so he’s not sitting on it.

“It’s kind of a tradition,” Peter says, feeling a little awkward and suddenly struck by an inexplicable need to defend their little apartment with all their mismatched things. Tony has this way of making everything around him seem dull in comparison.

“Great movie,” Mr Stark says with a nod, seemingly oblivious to Peter’s irrational discomfort. He leans back, pulling the blanket over his lap and running the edges of it between his fingers. “I like this. Who is it? Frette?”

Peter frowns for a second because, what? But then he sees the quirk of the brow, slight lift at the edge of the lips and _oh_ he’s joking.

“May Parker original,” Peter laughs.

“Yeah?” Tony looks thoughtful. “She do commissions?”

“In the market for a horribly mis-stitched throw, Tony?” May says, appearing with a plate in each hand. The smell of Thai food wafts through the air and Peter suddenly realises just how hungry he is.

“I might be, if you made it.”

May scoffs good-naturedly.

“Eat your Pad Thai.”

 

**~**

 

Marty McFly gets that baby to eighty-eight miles-per-hour, leaving twin scorch marks on the asphalt, and May gets up, collecting the empty plates from the coffee table.

Peter blinks away from the screen, fumbling for the remote. “Want me to pause?”

She shakes her head. “Peter, I’ve seen this so many times I could quote it in my sleep. Leave it.” Then she’s heading for the kitchen. Peter doesn’t miss the little look she gives Mr Stark as she goes.

He and Tony sit there in companionable silence for a minute or two, the T.V providing background noise, and then Tony stretches his leg out and nudges Peter’s knee with the toe of his shoe.

“Hey,” he says. “I didn’t give you your present yet.”

So that’s what the look was about. Peter feels his stomach swoop. “Mr Stark I told you-”

“You didn’t want anything,” Tony parrots back at him. “Right. Yeah. I know.” He gets up, taking the empty seat beside Peter on the couch. “Too bad.”

He tosses an object up into the air between them, and Peter’s spidey reflexes have his hand shooting out automatically, snatching it as it begins its downward arc. He looks down, opening his fist.

And stares.

It’s a car key. Four rings loop each other on one side, the unmistakable logo for Audi.

No _. Nononono_. No _way._

“You – you got me – “Peter can’t even speak. “You got me a _car?!_ ” And not just any car, a freaking _Audi_. He cringes slightly, thinking back to his first and only experience driving (and wrecking) one. The key suddenly feels very heavy in his palm. Even though he knows the cost of a car is nothing to Mr Stark, this is insane. It’s too much. He opens his mouth to say so.

“Whoa.” Mr Stark holds up a hand. “Slow your roll, kid. You really think your aunt was going to let me upstage her by getting you a car?” he says, and Peter lets out a little breath in relief. Okay, so he’s not getting a car. But then… what’s the key for?

Mr Stark must see his confusion, because he gestures to the key. “No. _That_ is for the car I’m teaching you to drive in. One of my older and more reliable models. If you want, that is?”

Peter feels himself go still.

“You’re gonna teach me?” he repeats, hesitantly. He had always thought he’d learn how to drive from Ben, and then when that was no longer an option he’d been slightly terrified at the prospect of learning from May (not that he’d ever tell her that). That Mr Stark wants to teach him…Peter feels oddly touched. He swallows thickly, blinking down at the key in his hand.

“Of course, kid,” Tony answers softly. He clears his throat, pats Peter’s knee. “I can’t have you learning from some quack in Driver’s Ed, now, can I? Honest answer, who do you want teaching you - me, or Instructor Bob in his Prius?”

“His name’s Bill,” Peter deadpans. He looks up, flashing Tony a grin. “You, obviously.”

Tony bumps his shoulder. “That’s what I thought. Lessons start this weekend. If you’re up for it?”

This weekend. Wow that’s… that’s so soon. Peter laughs nervously.

Tony frowns. “What?”

Peter thinks of Flash’s dad’s car. He thinks of every bump and scrape it suffered with him behind the wheel. Granted, he was trying to stop a bad guy from stealing billions of dollars’ worth of proprietary tech at the time, but still. That was a nice car. Mr Stark’s must be so much nicer, even if it is an old one. What if he scratches it? What if he _crashes_ it?

“I don’t really have the best track record when it comes to driving,” he admits.

“What do you think the lessons are for, huh? Plenty of wide open road at the compound, kid. You’ll be fine.”

“Mr Stark, I totalled the last car I drove.”

Tony sniffs. “Yeah well from what you’ve told me about that kid, he had it coming.”

“Mr Stark!”

“Look. I’m teaching you to drive, not walking you to the gallows, all right? Lighten up. You want to learn how to drive a car and _not_ total it, right?”

Peter nods. “Yes. Yeah. Definitely.”

“Well okay then. You and me. Friday. Just… try not to bring it up around Happy. He’s still bummed he’s not the one who gets to teach you.”

Peter swings his head up at that. “ _Happy_ wanted to teach me?” As much as he likes the man, he can’t quite picture gruff, straight-to-the-point Happy wanting to get in a car with him behind the wheel, let alone being disappointed he doesn’t get to.

“Don’t sound so surprised, kid. You’ve gone up in his estimations since the whole moving day fiasco. But, uh… he _does_ need to work on his blood pressure, and we’ve already established that you’re…” He waves a hand.

“A horrible driver.”

“I was going to say _inexperienced_. This is definitely the better option, trust me.”

Learning to drive from Tony Stark?! Peter is a bit stunned, so he doesn’t realise he hasn’t said anything until Tony prods, “So… that’s a yes, then?”

“Yes!” Peter says quickly. “Yes. Yeah. Wow, Mr. Stark. _Thank you._ ”

Tony looks relieved. “Thank me when you pass your test,” he says. Then he leans back, glancing over his shoulder to the kitchen where May is pulling something out of the refrigerator. He turns back to Peter, speaking low. “But, uh, you do it first time and the car’s yours,” he says with a wink, and Peter almost chokes.

“ _Really?!_ ” He says it way too loud. He ducks his head and sneaks a glance at May, who’s looking at the two of them with a confused smile from across the room. He swings his head back to Tony. “Really?”

Tony quirks his eyebrow. “Sure.”

“Wow. Wow, wow, wow.”

“Really, what?” May asks, having made her way over to the couch.

Peter’s eyes flick to Tony, whose face is set in a perfect expression of neutral. “Uh… Mr Stark’s going to teach me to drive,” he says, trying his best to not look suspicious.

“Imagine that,” May says, feigning surprise. She looks a little suspicious, but opts to let it go for now in favour of Peter’s last present of the day. “Come, come,” she says, beckoning the two of them back to the kitchen.

Peter laughs when he sees the cake, and laughs even harder when he sees Tony’s face.

“Really?” Tony asks, looking at May with scorn.

May shrugs. “The Hulk always was his favourite,” she says, stifling a laugh.

Tony shoots Peter a look of absolute betrayal.

“Was!” Peter insists, and Tony’s face softens. Peter smirks. “Now it’s Vision.”

Tony scoffs, gently cuffing him across the back of his head, hand ruffling briefly through his hair. “Alright, smart-ass. Blow out your candles.”

“Don’t forget to make a wish,” May says eagerly.

Peter leans down, thinks for a second, then closes his eyes and blows.

He doesn’t need to make a wish. Not really. Everything he wants is already right here.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know if you liked it! *puppy dog eyes* Please?? It's my biiiirthday tomorrow!
> 
> Love you all <3


End file.
